


grilled cheese

by iron_spider



Series: I love you more than anything (bio dad au) [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bio dad au, Gen, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26634364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/pseuds/iron_spider
Summary: His kid, who has grease smeared all around his mouth from the sandwich he’s plowing through.“Okay, maybe I need to try to make it a little less greasy,” Tony says, grabbing one of the baby wipes and rubbing at Peter’s mouth. Peter yells, trying to swerve away from him, but Tony snorts and keeps going after him. Peter’s brows furrow and he yells again, babbling out something angry as he tries to swat Tony’s arm away. “Oh my goodness, I know, I know, you’re eating. I get it. I’m not gonna deprive you, you’re just disgusting.”Peter shrieks, one of his alarm screams, and slams his hands on the table. Tony finishes up and shakes his head, pitching the baby wipe into the trash can. Peter glares at him for a second, not moving or trying to eat, and then Tony smiles. Peter immediately smiles back, saying something else incomprehensible as he resumes his previous activity.
Relationships: Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: I love you more than anything (bio dad au) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671484
Comments: 62
Kudos: 588





	grilled cheese

“Why do you like that so much?” Tony asks, sitting in front of Peter and watching him absolutely massacre bite size bits of grilled cheese sandwich. His little hands go after them like they’re pieces of gold, and he hardly takes time to breathe before seeking out the next one. “Daddy doesn’t do the best grilled cheese. But you’re really feeding my ego right now, kid, so, you know, you do you. Just tell Aunt May you like mine more than you like hers.”

Peter makes a little humming noise, sparing him the barest glance before he goes for his next piece. He’s got two full sandwiches on his tray, cut up diligently by Tony himself, and they’ll be gone within the next couple minutes if he keeps it up. Tony’s got a whole list taped to the wall in the kitchen of things Peter can eat, and he tries to keep him on his toes, tries not to serve him the same foods too many times in a row, even though Peter clearly already has favorites. Tony isn’t the best cook—no, that doesn’t describe it properly. He isn’t a good cook. At all. It’s something he gave up on a long time ago, after about six failed dates and an apartment full of smoke. 

Rhodey used to tell him he had other traits people would find attractive. But being able to cook would never be one of them. 

But he’s good at bottles, and apparently, he’s good at grilled cheese. At least Peter thinks so, and Peter’s opinion is the one Tony cares about the most.

He watches him, smiling to himself, and sometimes it feels surreal. A little human. His little human. His number one, all of a sudden. He knows not everybody has that kind of connection with their kids and he’s so fucking grateful that he _does_ , even though he might not have been ready for this massive, fundamental change. So sometimes it feels surreal, like a glimpse into another universe, but other times it just feels...normal. It’s feeling more normal all the time. This is his life. This is his kid.

His kid, who has grease smeared all around his mouth from the sandwich he’s plowing through.

“Okay, maybe I need to try to make it a little less greasy,” Tony says, grabbing one of the baby wipes and rubbing at Peter’s mouth. Peter yells, trying to swerve away from him, but Tony snorts and keeps going after him. Peter’s brows furrow and he yells again, babbling out something angry as he tries to swat Tony’s arm away. “Oh my goodness, I know, I know, you’re eating. I get it. I’m not gonna deprive you, you’re just disgusting.”

Peter shrieks, one of his alarm screams, and slams his hands on the table. Tony finishes up and shakes his head, pitching the baby wipe into the trash can. Peter glares at him for a second, not moving or trying to eat, and then Tony smiles. Peter immediately smiles back, saying something else incomprehensible as he resumes his previous activity.

“Okay,” Tony says, leaning forward and bracing his elbow on the tray. “Did that mean... _I love you?_ Did it mean... _I’m not disgusting, Daddy, I’m perfect?_ Did it mean _stop trying to wipe my face while I’m eating because I’m just gonna get gross again?_ Probably that last one.”

Peter hums to himself, looking up at Tony for a little longer than he did before. Tony’s heart goes warm, as it tends to do when he looks at his baby for more than a couple seconds, and then he quickly grabs one of the grilled cheese pieces and pops it into his mouth.

Peter freezes, like a statue. His eyebrows are high on his forehead, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He’s never looked more scandalized. 

Tony nearly chokes. 

“Listen,” he says, laughing, reaching out and caressing Peter’s cheek. “Listen. Relax. You just made it look so good, I mean, how can you blame me? You can’t blame me.”

Peter says something else, and Tony almost thinks he hears the word _no_ in there. 

“You gotta learn to share, Petey,” Tony says, chewing. “Well. With me. We’ll have discussions about everybody else.”

Peter grins at him, cheese in his teeth. 

Tony grins back. “Maybe next time we’ll do some tomato soup with it, huh? I’ll dip ‘em so you don’t get nastier than you already get.”

Tomato soup and grilled cheese. Most things remind him of his mom, even when he doesn’t want him to, but that, in particular, is a warm and comforting memory. After so much of his father’s yelling. Broken vases, tipped chairs. Slammed doors. Tomato soup and grilled cheese.

He clears his throat just as the phone rings next to him. He sees it’s from the main SI office, and he wonders why Pepper isn’t calling from her own line. 

He picks up the phone. “Hey Pep.”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” another voice says. It’s familiar, and he knows he knows, but he can’t pinpoint it right now. “It’s actually Erin. Uh, Miss Potts left a message over here, I’m not exactly sure why she didn’t call you at home to tell you, but, uh—well, it’s a message for you, sir, and you might need to access the machine to listen to it.”

Tony narrows his eyes. He knows how to access the machine. He’s one of the leading minds in the tech industry, why the hell wouldn’t he know how to access the machine? “Okay,” he says. “I’ll do that. Thanks for the heads up.”

He hangs up with Erin and wonders why Pepper would leave a message on the machine at the office when she knows he’s at home today. Yes, he’s supposed to be working, but Peter’s gotta eat, he’s part of the routine now, she knows that. Is this her way to gently nudge him back to work? It’s roundabout, for sure, but possibly...effective. He tries to remember what she’s working on right now, what she’s fielding for him, and he clicks his tongue, dialing the machine to listen to the message. He puts in his codes when it answers, and hers is the most recent available. It starts playing.

_Hi, Tony. Um, I don’t know exactly—well, long story short, a representative at Oscorp has offered me—uh, a significant package and—role in their company if I came to work for them. I didn’t, uh, I didn’t make this decision lightly, or...quickly, at all, but after a lot of thought I decided to—take what they were offering, so this is—effectively my two weeks’ notice. I—I’ll still be there for you in a friendship capacity, I’m sure, but I just—well. I don’t want to leave a long message, this is long enough, um. I’ll see you soon, though._

It cuts off. Jarvis asks if there’s anything else he needs to listen to, if he needs to hear the message repeated, but he just hangs up.

He feels like he’s floating. And not in a good way.

Tony can’t even imagine not having Pepper with him. He can’t remember what his life was before she was in it. Everything has been clear, since that initial meeting, like black and white finally flooded with color. She could see him, the way Rhodey did. He knew it, the way she looked at him. She could _see_ him. 

He stares off, half a zombie, as his future without Pepper pans out in front of him. Fucking Oscorp? He can only imagine what they offered her. It makes him boil with anger, and he has to fix it, he has to offer her more, something, everything. 

He feels like he has to confront something in his head, but like a lot of things, it’s blocked up behind a wall of his own making, and he can’t, not before, not now, maybe...eventually...but he can’t if she’s gone. Because they’d keep her busy. There wouldn’t be any friendship. There wouldn’t be any time.

She’s a part of his life. A major part. He knows her coffee order. He knows her shoe size. He knows there’s...something, with strawberries. He knows that he can’t lose her, and the possibility of it makes him feel insane. A blank spot, where she once was. Nobody could replace her. Not as an assistant. Not as a partner. Not as...anything and everything she is to him.

He drifts, in a panic, staring off at a point on the far wall. His brain works and tries to untangle all the knots he’s tightened, and his heart is hammering in his ears, drowning everything else out. 

_Tony, you know those shoes hurt your ankles—_   
_No, you had an allergic reaction there last time and I’m pretty sure it was the ranch dressing they make—_   
_You’re not losing your hair, please—_   
_No, that’s your color. I wouldn’t lie to you. Well, not about that._   
_You can do this, Tony. You can._

“Da! Da!”

Tony rushes up from the subconscious void he’d been falling into, and his heart is slamming against his chest now. 

He refocuses on Peter. Peter, who is sitting up straight now, breathing fast. His eyes are wide, and he pats his hands gently on the tray like he’s unsure if Tony can see him. 

Tony thought he heard—

No, he couldn’t—

“Dada! Dada! Dada!”

Peter pats the tray each time he says it, doesn’t slam, just does it softly like he’s trying to hold Tony’s attention. 

Tears immediately spring to Tony’s eyes and he sucks in a breath, no, sucks in two, because he can’t breathe. He laughs, wetly, and Peter mimics the noises, clapping his hands. 

“What did you say?” Tony asks, scooting closer, reaching out and holding Peter’s shoulders. Peter laughs again, jumping up and down in his seat. “What’d you say, monkey?”

“Dada! Dada!” Peter giggles, holding onto Tony’s arms. 

“Oh my God,” Tony nearly sobs, tears tracking down his cheeks. “Oh my _God_ , Pete.” He gets up, immediately lifting Peter out of the high chair and into his arms. Peter doesn’t even protest leaving the rest of his grilled cheese behind. He just keeps laughing, grinning and holding onto Tony’s shoulder. 

“Dada,” Peter whispers, bopping back and forth, leaning his forehead against Tony’s cheek.

Tony’s heart is aching, but it’s a good ache, pride that nearly bursts out of him. He must have really been checked out, zoning, and Peter dragged this out of himself to get his attention back.

He’s talking. He’s _talking._

“Yep,” Tony says, clearing his throat again, still crying like an idiot. “Yep, Dada. That’s me.”

~

Tony buzzes Pepper’s apartment, and steps back, cracking his jaw. Peter is in the papoose, and he’s been all about this new word since he first said it. He peers up at Tony when Tony takes his hand. 

“Dada?”

“Yup,” Tony says, a little unsure how to answer now that a real word is coming out. “Just gotta—”

“Hello?” Pepper’s voice asks, through the box.

“Pep, it’s Tony,” Tony says. He hears people talking on the sidewalk, and they look openly when he glances to see. He raises his eyebrows, waving, and Peter squeals happily. Tony looks back towards the box. “Can I, uh—can we come up?”

“Oh—oh my God, um. Yeah, yeah, I’ll—I’ll just—”

He can almost see her shake her head, and then she buzzes him in. He braces one hand on Peter’s chest and opens the door, heading up to her apartment. Peter flaps his arms with every stair, and when Tony reaches the third floor he draws in a breath and trudges down towards her door.

Pepper opens the door before he can knock. 

She’s not dressed for work. She’s dressed—normally, a t-shirt and jeans, and it sort of catches him by surprise. Maybe he stares, for just a second, maybe something rattles in the back of his mind. 

Peter kicks him in the stomach to get him going.

“Tony—”

“Uh, I’ll give you whatever you want,” Tony says, like a fucking idiot. But he keeps going. “Whatever they’re giving you, I’ll—match it, I’ll times ten it, I’ll times fifty it, whatever you want. Frankly, I’m thinking about suing them for even—looking at you. But I, uh. I don’t want to guilt you. You’re your own person. But I—I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best—person—” He feels like he’s messing this up, and he holds onto Peter’s hand, taking a breath.

He looks up again. She’s still listening. “You’re essential. Every day. You’re more than an employee, Pep, you’re—look, I don’t want to guilt you, like I said, but it keeps almost coming out of my mouth—I can’t do it without you. I can’t. Any of it. You’re—I need you.” He looks down at Peter. “We—we need you.”

He doesn’t look up at her again, because a strange shame always washes over him when he opens up to people, even someone that means this much. 

“I don’t know. That was a bad speech. You always help me with my speeches.” He sighs, rubbing his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. 

“Tony, I—”

Peter swings his legs. “Dada?”

Pepper gasps. Tony smiles to himself, squeezing Peter’s hand a bit. It feels very planned, even though it wasn’t. His little partner in crime.

“Oh my God,” Pepper says. Tony looks back up, but her eyes are trained on Peter now. “Oh my God, did he just—”

“Yeah,” Tony laughs. “Did it for the first time earlier, hasn’t stopped since. The best. The best. How could you leave this, huh?”

“I still wanted to be friends,” Pepper says, softly, looking at him now.

Tony tilts his head at her. “We couldn’t be friends. Because within a week without you, I’d die. I don’t know what I’d do, eat something I’m allergic to, walk off a bridge because I’m not looking. I’m sorry that’s on you, Pep, I’m sorry.”

She snorts, looking down at her feet. He’s totally screwing this up. But she’s smiling.

“Wanna come in?” she asks, stepping back. “Because I need to hear him say that—a million more times.”

“Dada!” Peter squeals, shaking his arms.

“Well,” Tony says, more full of hope now. “He’s up to the challenge.”

~

_Maybe she’ll just pine for the next fifty years._   
_Maybe she’ll just do that._   
_She has the strength to do that._   
_Because she tried to go, and one look from him drew her right back in._   
_That’s fine._   
_She can’t leave him._   
_That’s fine._   
_She’ll be fine._


End file.
